


Of Love and Justice

by imitateslife



Category: Anastasia - Flaherty/Ahrens/McNally
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Glebga, Lawyers, Romeo and Juliet References, happy romanov family, two law firms both alike in dignity..., with a side of Dimya
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-11
Updated: 2019-09-21
Packaged: 2020-08-18 23:09:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20199727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imitateslife/pseuds/imitateslife
Summary: Gleb Vaganov and Olga Romanov have a comfortable friendship. As a public defender and ADA, they frequently go toe-to-toe in the courtroom. However, when unforeseen circumstances force each of them to take up work in their fathers' rival law firms, tensions rise. Things only intensify when Olga's sister, Anya, brings an ex-con into the Romanov family. With sibling drama, conniving law partners, and a family rivalry that goes back at least one generation will Gleb and Olga manage to have their happily ever after?





	1. Chapter 1

Gleb sat in Foley Square under the shadow of Manhattan’s Courthouse and its great pillars. A short distance away, Olga was buying their lunches from a halal cart. He watched her with a fond if sad smile. He should have felt triumphant - after all, she was only buying lunch because he’d won his case against her - but Gleb could only ache at the knowledge that this would be the last of their lunches in the square together. Last night his mother had called from Long Island. When Irina Vaganov called past 9 PM, it was never good news. They were taking his father off support and he needed to be there to say goodbye and sign documents. Gleb had always known the day would come when his father asked him to take over Vaganov & Gorlinsky law firm, but he’d never guessed that day would come on the heels of a botched and prolonged suicide, the night before his biggest case as a public defender to date. 

Of course, Olga had known about Stepan Vaganov’s suicide attempt. Gleb remembered texting her a week ago when it happened, asking her to petition the judge for a continuance. She’d offered to come to see him and he’d almost taken her up on it. Though they were fierce courtroom adversaries, they were friends. Maybe a little more. Gleb remembered the DA’s Christmas party four months ago when they’d kissed under mistletoe at the behest of everyone around them. She’d been warm and tasted of champagne. There had been a moment’s hesitation, before slipping into a kiss as naturally as anything, and then someone had yelled ‘Get a room!’ and that had been the end of that. Gleb couldn’t believe it was what he thought of now, after winning a case, while planning a funeral, on the heels of inheriting his father’s law firm. And yet, as Olga smiled over at him, Gleb hated that he hadn’t invited her over to his apartment during that tense week of  _ waiting _ for a miracle and  _ knowing _ one wouldn’t come. Now, he’d be leaving their work for the city and working for the private sector. He hadn’t even told her and waves of shame washed over him. Both their fathers owned ( _ Had owned _ , he reminded himself as he thought about calling the funeral home to confirm that it would be an open-casket ceremony) law firms in the city. Romanov Law worked in criminal prosecution. Like Gleb, Olga had walked away from her family’s legacy to do important work for the public. She was the best prosecutor Gleb knew. It wouldn’t shock him if she became the youngest woman DA in New York County history. She was brilliant and he’d miss her when he took up his father’s business. 

“For today’s champion,” she said, casting a shadow over him and smiling. “Next time, I won’t go so easy on you.”

Olga offered Gleb a tray of chicken over rice, drenched in white sauce. He smiled up at her until she sat beside him. Then, poking his lunch with his fork, he asked:

“Were you really going easy on me? Considering…”

“Oh, god, Gleb, no. I’m sorry,” she said, sitting next to him. He looked over at her. Her blue eyes were wide, round with realization; her pink lips parted. “I didn’t- How is he?”

“The funeral is Friday,” Gleb said. “It’s over.”

Her hand squeezed his.

“What funeral home? We’ll send flowers.”

“You’d better not.” Gleb smiled bitterly. “The whole city expects this to be Romanov Law’s final victory over Vaganov & Gorlinsky.” 

“What if  _ I _ send flowers? Anonymously?”

Gleb sighed. His father wouldn’t have  _ wanted _ flowers. Stepan Vaganov only ever bought them if he was apologizing to his wife. Flowers sent on behalf of the law firm or Stepan himself had always shuffled the work of picking flowers off to his secretary. Gleb didn’t want flowers, either. He tried to think of what his father would have wanted, but the entire circumstance of his death left Gleb thinking he did not and never would know the man like a son should know his father. He shrugged. 

“Whatever you would spend on flowers, donate it to Amnesty International,” he said. “It’ll do more good in the world.”

Olga nodded. She picked at her chicken over rice quietly. Gleb wished he could know what she was thinking and that he could just ask her to come with him to the ceremony to hold his hand. Instead, he would be holding his mother’s hand through the ceremony and  _ after _ … What would he do  _ after _ ? There would be condolences at a reception hall or at home and Gleb would have to shake hands with and hug people he would rather  _ not _ . He would have to clear out his father’s suits and shoes and ties and take them in for donation. He would have to run 52% of a law firm he never asked for. 

“Maybe we could get a drink after,” he said, running one hand down his face. “I should be done by 10 PM. Maybe 11…”

Olga bit her lip. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing! It’s just… Papa organized a… well. He won’t say  _ what _ , except that it’s formal dress only.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me. Your dad is throwing a party?”

“He’s been planning it for months!” Olga glowered at him. “I swear, it’s not meant to be insensitive-!”

“It’s fine.”

“I don’t even want to go,” Olga continued. “But the whole family will be there - he’s even letting Anya bring her boyfriend. It’s something big.”

“The one with the  _ rap sheet _ ?” 

A smile ghosted over Gleb’s lips. He’d met Anya’s boyfriend a handful of times - as his defense attorney. Charges stuck to Dmitry Sudayev as well as water stuck to a duck’s back. He slipped out of legal trouble through various loopholes and though Gleb believed him to be fully guilty, he’d always presented the evidence fairly and as such, Dmitry Sudayev had been arrested, but never convicted. If Anya hadn‘t been shadowing Olga during Sudayev’s trial, maybe the Romanovs wouldn’t half-blame Gleb for the time Anya now spent on dodgier sides of town, doing god knows what. Olga nodded, smiling back a little.

“He usually tells me why he’s hosting these things,” she said. “But not this time. If we hadn’t  _ just _ celebrated Aloysha’s graduation, it’d make sense. I almost think he’s planning to name Tatiana his successor so he can retire. He knows I’d tell her, so…”

“So, that’s wonderful news,” Gleb said more warmly than before. “And it’ll go all night?”

“I’ll get away and meet you somewhere. Midnight at The Blue Bridge?”

“It sounds perfect, I’ll be there.”

The rest of the week was a blur of consolations and cleaning. Gleb made phone calls and donations. He slept in his childhood bedroom so his mother didn’t come home to an empty apartment and made her breakfast so she would eat something. He packed up his office and took his meager box of belongings uptown to his father’s firm. There were contracts to sign and Gleb reviewed them carefully from the lobby, unwilling and unable to set foot in his father’s office. Clicking his pen as he read the final contract to be signed, a shadow fell over him. 

“I wondered when you would come into the office,” Gorlinsky said. 

He extended a hand to Gleb to shake. Setting aside the papers, Gleb rose to accept. His father’s partner at law looked like a lawyer from the early nineties in a crisp, boxy suit and with an impressive salt-and-pepper mustache. His eyes, dark and hard flicked across Gleb’s face, making Gleb uncomfortably aware that he hadn’t gotten to shave in four days. 

“It’s good to see you, sir.” 

“It’s good to see you’ve grown since the last time I saw you,” Gorlinsky said, releasing Gleb and tapping his own cheek, indicating stubble. “You were, what, nineteen?”

“Something like that.” 

He’d been twenty-six and had just won a particularly well-covered case. Not that it mattered. Gorlinsky smiled grimly. 

“I’m sorry for your loss,” he said. “Stepan was a good man - and a damn good lawyer.”

“Thank you.”

“If you or your mother need anything-”

“Thank you.” 

A heavy pause descended on them. Gorlinsky’s eyes flicked to the papers Gleb had abandoned in his haste to greet him. Gleb followed his gaze and looked back at the man. He remembered meeting Gorlinsky when he was eight years old. His father’s broadly muscled partner had been an army buddy before retirement. Stepan Vaganov sometimes seemed to prefer Gorlinsky’s company to that of his own family - or so it seemed to Gleb as he went into middle and high school and his father worked late into the night and missed his debate tournaments and football games and guitar concerts. Gorlinsky got one thing right: Stepan Vaganov had been a damn good lawyer. The jury was still out on all else. 

“You know, I'd offer you a fair price,” Gorlinsky said. 

“For… what?”

“You have a life, Gleb. Surely you’re not giving it up to take over your father’s share of the firm.”

“Actually…”

“I’m impressed.” Gorlinsky didn’t sound impressed at all. His voice was quiet, dangerous. “The prodigal son, the  _ public defender _ , going into private practice? If it’s an issue of money-”

“It’s not. Dad left me a legacy to uphold.”

“I see. Going to make your father proud. Don’t get caught up in the sentiment and sign the papers just yet. Like I said, I’ll offer you a fair price  _ more _ than fair if you let me keep the Vaganov name…”

“Oh, you’ll keep the Vaganov name,” Gleb said. “And a Vaganov as a partner.”

The vein in Gorlinsky’s forehead pulsed. 

“On paper,” he said. “But you’re still a boy, trying to fill his father’s shoes. And just because you’re my partner on paper doesn’t mean you’re your father.” 

“I’m not trying to be.”

“Shame. He was a better lawyer than you are. Prove me wrong, Vaganov.” 

Gleb flourished his last, angry signature on the paperwork and handed it off to his father’s secretary - his now. Dominika, the secretary, a viciously pretty brunette about Gleb’s age, who wore dark clothes and make-up and whose nails always looked more like claws that the ends of fingers, took the papers from him 

“You know, it’s not a legacy worth inheriting,” she said as she filed the paperwork to be sent, “He probably would have given you a fair price, too.”

“Why are you taking his side?” Gleb asked. “You can go be  _ his _ secretary for all I care.” 

“And leave you stuck with one of the office idiots?” she asked. “I’ve never liked you, with your Sword of Righteousness attitude, but I don’t  _ hate _ you, Vaganov.”

“Thanks.” Dominika had left him on unreasonably long holds when he’d called the office to talk to his father and he never quite knew if that was her doing or Stepan’s. “Tell me more.”

“The front desk receptionist is Marfa - she’s the smartest of them and she’s had a crush on you for, like, five years that she only cops to when drunk. Dunya keeps to herself, which is good because… Dunya? More like Dumb-ya. Don’t get stuck in a conversation with her. And Paulina just moved up in the world to work as Gorlinsky’s secretary, Don’t know what she did to deserve that hell. And then the associates. Natasha and Luka-”

“No, I know the associates.”

“Of course,” Dominika said. “I forgot: lawyers only get to know other lawyers. It’s the support staff you don’t give a damn about.”

“That’s not true. I used to go for drinks with the office secretaries at city hall. We all would go together, lawyers, admins, interns-”

“You’re not in city hall anymore,” Dominika said. She looked down at her phone. “I’m transferring all of Stepan’s work meetings to your calendar now. Welcome to Vaganov & Gorlinsky.” 

Gleb’s phone proceeded to beep with alerts for a full ten minutes, even after he descended into the subway to prepare for the funeral. 

It was an unremarkable affair, the funeral. Atheist to the core, Stepan Vaganov did not have the trappings of religion in his burial. Instead, droning men in suits spoke of his work ethic and dedication to the field. Sitting beside his mother and fiddling with his speech, Gleb wondered if anybody  _ besides _ his mother would care about what he had to say to send his father off into whatever afterlife there might have been. He stared at his lap. His phone glowed blue in the middle of Gorlinsky’s speech. 

[From: Olga Romanov] You’ve got this. Just remember to breathe. Think of it as a closing argument.

Gleb looked around the sea of black. He hadn’t told Olga he would be speaking or that he would be the final speaker at his father’s funeral. Was she here? Polite applause filled the room and Gorlinsky walked away from the podium. Irina Vaganov nudged her son in the ribs.

“Glebka put your phone away. It’s your turn.” 

Gleb pocketed his phone and mounted the stage. He looked at the sea of people. There were significantly more than twelve jurors to hear his closing statement, but Olga was right: that’s all this was. One final argument in his father’s favor. Gleb took a deep breath and looked down at his notes.

“I know most of you knew my father as the lawyer and, on some level, that’s the man I knew, too.” 

Gleb’s throat stuck together. He looked up. A glint of something sparkling - a necklace - caught his eye. Sitting on the end in the very back was Olga in her formal gown, dressed as if ready to dash to her father’s event at any moment. Her pink lips parted and she smiled encouragingly. Gleb cleared his throat.

“My father often brought his work home with him, but with it, he brought his convictions: his belief that everyone was entitled to a fair trial, that all men and women were equal in the eyes of the law, and that a real man didn’t back down from a fight - even if that fight was difficult. I quickly learned that these fights were also meant to be  _ verbal _ , but those of you who want to hear the story of how I got my nose broken during AP Government should ask me some other day.”

A ripple of laughter flowed through the room.

“My father was a damn good lawyer and a good man,” he said. “But the man I remember and the man commemorated by his coworkers was not always the same man you all saw. His colleagues remember him for his dedication to work and they are right to do so. However, as his son, I remember competing with his work for importance in my father’s life. When I was younger, I measured my success by his presence and his absence, weighing them in equal measure, and always coming up short. However, as I look back and I think about the moments my father was able to be present and chose to be there, I think that those moments have more value than any football game or debate tournament he missed. He was home every night and he showed his love in his own ways - leading by example most often. His words were usually used up at work. But at home, he would take me to volunteer for homeless shelters and street clean-up and drag me to protests I didn’t understand and refuse to let me quit extracurriculars I signed up for and  _ hated  _ because a Vaganov doesn’t quit. And not quitting breeds passion and excellence. I owe the man I am to my father and I promise all of you that I will live a life that would make him proud. I urge each of you who profess to care about him to do the same - work hard, dedicate yourself to excellence, and live passionately and our world will be a more beautiful place. Thank you.” 

Gleb didn’t pay any mind to the applause he received - and maybe it was none at all. He looked out to the sea of people only to see a retreating back of a woman leaving. He wanted to follow Olga into the hall, but instead sat with his mother and took her hand. She murmured some kind of praise and handed him his phone.

[From: Olga Romanov] Beautiful speech. The jury rules in favor of the defense. 

* * *

Olga hastened to the waiting taxi and rode it to the Upper East Side, where her father had rented out the ballroom of one of the more impressive hotels. She arrived with only minutes to spare, tipped the driver as she fixed her eye makeup and dashed out the doors. The train of her black dress rippled behind her as she mounted the marble steps. She smiled warmly at the doorman and asked reception where the Romanov reception was being held. They directed her and as she stepped into the ballroom, Olga was accosted by multiple voices and sets of hands. 

“Where have you been?” Her mother. 

“Your mascara is running.” Tatiana, with a tissue, blotting at her face. 

“Did you see Dima outside? He went to get some air-” Anya, tugging her arm. 

“Tatya, stop fussing; Olenka, you look beautiful.” Maria, hovering. 

“Papa said he wouldn’t start without you.” Alexei - the only one with useful information as he clasped her hand. “I think the party is for you.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Tatiana said, digging into her purse, “Open your mouth; I’m going to fix your mascara.” 

Olga shook them all off politely, except her mother, who dogged her steps to the refreshment table as Olga went to get a drink of water. She wanted something stronger, but the crying and the mad rush across town left her feeling dehydrated. Alexandra Romanov eyed her daughter as Olga gulped down water.

“If you were Anya, I’d know where you had been and what’ you’d been up to, coming in this disheveled,” she murmured, repinning Olga’s messy updo.

“Mama!”

“Where have you been? You left your phone on “read”. We all know you saw the texts.” 

“Gleb’s father passed away,” Olga said softly, not daring to raise her voice. “I had to go-”

“And let the journalists have a field day?” Alexandra sighed. “What happened to Stepan Vaganov is a tragedy, but you don’t need to be a bleeding heart.”

“It’s not like that-”

“Then what  _ is  _ it like? I know you’re friendly with the son, but there’s friendly and there’s  _ too _ friendly…”

“Mama, no,” Olga said. “Gleb is just a friend. If things had been reversed, he would have done the same for me.”

“Pray the same thing doesn’t happen to our family. When your father finds out where you’ve been-”

“Where has Olga been?” Nicholas asked, walking up behind his wife. He put a hand to her waist and squeezed gently. “Alix, she’s not Anya. I’m sure wherever she was-”

“She was at the Vaganov funeral.”

Nicholas’ smile faded. Then, slowly he nodded. Releasing his wife he took Olga’s hands in his and beamed down at his daughter. He swept a stray lock of hair out of her face. 

“I’m glad one of us had the compassion and good sense to go,” he said. “I asked Irina where to send flowers and she said Gleb had opened a charity fund in his father’s name instead. I’m glad you could support your friend, Olenka. It’s good business and goodness itself.”

Olga smiled and leaned against her father’s hand. He took it from her face and offered her his arm. 

“My mind is made up,” Nicholas said, looking at Alexandra. “I’ve made the right choice.”

“Choice about what, Papa?”

“What do you think of the decorations?” he asked Olga. 

For the first time, she examined the decor. Soft pink streamers the color of champagne and roses intertwined with gold-foil chains overhead, creating a tent-like effect. A chocolate fountain burbled in front of an ice sculpture shaped like a swan. Gold and silver balloons hung suspended in the air. It looked like something she might have dreamed up and told her father about during their early morning talks over coffee. Maybe she had. Maybe there was something to what Alexei had said, but she hadn’t done anything to deserve a party, except maybe support a friend in need, and that was hardly worth lavish recognition - her family hadn’t even known that she was doing it until she already had. A frown tugged at Olga’s lips.

“It’s beautiful,” she said. It contrasted sharply with the sea of black she saw whenever she shut her eyes. “Like a dream…”

She looked out to the ballroom to see some guests - most, familiar faces - dancing. Others congregated at the buffet table or sat in the elegant dining chairs. Maria had a glass of champagne and a little tray of desserts in her other hand as she blushed through conversation with one of the associate lawyers from the firm. Tatiana danced in the center of the ballroom. Alexei and a group of other interns and junior associates sat at a table with their heads bent in conversation. And Anya - Well, her boyfriend had returned and they were now bickering heatedly behind a plant. It looked like a normal company charity event. That didn’t tell her why her father hadn’t said much about it until the event was upon them. 

“I’m glad you like it,” Nicholas said. “The whole firm is here - and their families.” 

“I can see that.”

“You know I’m proud of you, don’t you,  Olishka?” 

“Yes, of course-”

“If you keep working where you’re at, you could be DA in another fifteen years.”

“I was hoping it’d only be ten.”

“But the politics-”

“But the politics,” Olga agreed, sighing. “Factoring  _ that _ in, it’s not a sure thing.”

“I know. I worry about you. Tatya gets by at the law firm. Maria hasn’t forgiven me for putting her through law school instead of that teaching program. Anya is... “ Nicholas and Olga looked over at her where she indiscreetly yanked Dmitry down by his tie to kiss him. “... And Alexei needs more guidance than he’ll admit.”

Olga stopped watching her sister and watched her father. His brow creased and his blue eyes seemed to stare through the walls.

“I wanted to surprise you,” he said. “All of you. But I can’t keep secrets from you. You’ve always been the child I could be most honest with…”

“Papa?” Worry laced into Olga’s voice. 

Nicholas looked at her and smiled warmly. He squeezed her hand.

“I’m retiring, while I’m still young enough to enjoy it,” he said. “But this party isn’t for me. It’s for you. Olga, you’re finally ready to take your place at the family practice: at its head.”

Olga’s heart raced. She blinked a few times, mouth open and staring at her father. He smiled at her even more broadly.

“There is no one I trust more with my life’s work - or to mentor your siblings. You are ready and I am so proud of you.”

He kissed her forehead and stepped away from her towards the podium. The music died and Nicholas picked up the microphone. Olga scarcely listened to a word her father had said - they all sounded the same as the ones he’d just said, without the intimacy reserved for private conversations. The next thing Olga knew, her mother’s bony fingers poked her back as she shoved her towards the stage. Alexei, Anya, and Dmitry were chanting, “Speech! Speech! Speech!” and tapping their wine glasses with utensils. Maria beamed, hands upon her cheeks. Tatiana gripped her wine glass tightly and her eyes fixed on Olga like she was ready to open fire on her. Olga took the podium.

_ It’s a closing argument _ , she reminded herself.  _ Just do it. _

“Thank you all - especially you, Papa, for your faith in me. My father is leaving me a legacy of passion and dedication to our field and our family. I strive every day to make him proud. Now, as the head of Romanov Law, I will demonstrate every day that he placed his trust in the best person to serve you all. I promise to lead with a dedication to excellence, justice, and compassion. And congratulations to my wonderful papa, Nicholas Romanov - Papa, no one in the world is more deserving of this retirement than you. I hope I can make you proud. Thank you.”

Despite the brevity of her speech, thunderous applause roared in Olga’s ears as she stood at the podium, taking it in. She could hear her youngest siblings hooting for her. Blushing, she dismounted the steps and hugged her father. Her mother kissed her temple and she staggered from their embraces in search of something to drink - water or otherwise. She didn’t reach the refreshment table before being accosted by Tatiana, who steered her away from their other siblings. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Tatiana asked, pulling her away from crowds of well-wishers. “Olishka-”

“I didn’t know!” Olga could smell the champagne on her sister’s breath. She took both of Tatiana’s hands in hers and squeezed gently. “If I had, you know you’d be the first person I told…”

“Would I? You’ve been building this whole career of your own and-” Tatiana hiccuped down a little sob, “- and it’s like you don’t tell me anything anymore!”

“That’s not fair-”

“What’s not fair is that you haven’t even worked for Romanov Law in three years and now  _ suddenly _ it’s your birthright-”

“It’s not a kingdom, Tatiana. Do you want it? I can get Papa to change the paperwork because I love my job as an ADA-”

“No! I want to be happy for you!” Tatiana grabbed Olga’s hands tightly. “But are you going to be happy?”

“Yes, Tatya.” Olga never lied to her sister, but now she wondered if she might bend the truth a little. “Of course I’ll be happy.” 

Tatiana kissed Olga’s cheek. 

“I don’t want you to be unhappy,” she mumbled. “But I’m glad you didn’t know either. I don’t like it when you keep secrets from me.”

“I don’t keep secrets from you.”

“Oh?”

Tatiana reached into her purse and pulled out Olga’s phone, which she must have left behind to give her speech. She handed it to her. A knowing smirk tugged at Tatiana’s lips.

“Then why,” she asked, “do you have a bunch of text messages from Gleb Vaganov?”

Olga opened her phone and scrolled through to look.

[From: Gleb Vaganov] Thank you for coming today. IDK how you got Dominika to tell you where the service was. Teach me your ways. 

[From: Gleb Vaganov] Seriously, though, thank you for everything. Seeing you today gave me the courage I needed to survive the rest of the funeral. Good luck with your dad’s event tonight.

[From: Gleb Vaganov] I can’t wait to see you. The Blue Bridge at midnight. <3

[From: Gleb Vaganov] Ignore the heart. It’s been an emotional day. 

Olga smiled softly at her phone and pressed it to her chest for a moment, wondering what Gleb was doing now and what he would say when she told him her news. Should she tell him? It had been an emotional day - for both of them, in vastly different ways. Olga bit her lip. 

“You know he’s been in love with you since law school,” Tatiana said. “If his daddy dearest wouldn’t flay him alive -”

“His father passed away this week, Tatiana. You know that.”

Tatiana clapped her hands over her mouth. 

“I’m done drinking for the night,” she muttered through her fingers. “I’m sorry-”

“I won’t tell him,” Olga said. Then, squinting, said, “He isn’t in love with me. We’re just friends.”

“Who are you ‘just friends’ with?” Anya asked, popping up behind Olga and making her jump. “Because I guarantee you that if anyone was in love with you, they’d have to go through us first.” 

“Oh, what, like Dmitry passed  _ any _ of our tests?” Olga rolled her eyes. “Let it go, Anya.”

Anya folded her arms and puffed out her cheeks, sighing dramatically. 

“You have all the interesting secrets,” Anya said. “First Papa surprised you with a promotion and now you’ve got a secret admirer. How is your life this exciting?”

Olga gritted her teeth. 

“It isn’t! I didn’t ask for the promotion and Gleb definitely isn’t my secret admirer.”

“ _ Vaganov? _ ” Anya spat out. She laughed and covered her mouth. “I had a crush on him for all of two seconds before I realized he’s so…”

“Forbidden?” Tatiana suggested. “Because Papa will  _ never _ approve.”

“I was going to say  _ weird _ ,” Anya said. “Or  _ creepy _ or  _ lame _ -”

“Gleb isn’t  _ creepy _ ,” Olga said. “He’s sweet-”

“And way too intense,” Anya said. “It’s his eyes, I think…”

“Whose eyes?” Maria asked, finally joining the group. “Dmitry’s?”

“Gleb’s,” Anya and Tatiana chirruped. 

“As in Vaganov,” Tatiana clarified when Maria looked confused.

“Why are we talking about Gleb Vaganov?” Maria wrinkled her nose. “And his  _ eyes _ ?”

“Because he’s Olga’s secret boyfriend!”

Olga groaned and pushed away from her siblings. Her cheeks burned and she wished the flames would cool. It was  _ just _ Gleb. Her siblings had seen them hanging out before - like when they went for drinks together and ran into Tatiana and her friends at a bachelorette party and Gleb had asked them to quiet down, or when Anya and Dmitry ran into them in Chinatown and declared the afternoon a double date and stuck them with the bill or when Maria stopped by the office and had interrupted a heated argument about the upcoming charity basketball game they’d be squaring off in. Gleb wasn’t  _ new _ . Why did it matter today or all days?

“I’m just getting drinks with him because his father died,” Olga snapped. “And he’s a friend.” 

“Who you said is ‘sweet’. What else is he? Is he handsome, Olya?” Anya poked her ribs. “Do you think his dumb jokes are  _ funny _ ?”

“Leave her alone, Nastya,” Maria said. “If anyone deserves a little romance, it’s Olga.”

“There’s nothing romantic about me and Gleb,” Olga said, putting her phone in her purse. “I can’t believe I got promoted and all the three of you want to do is talk about some guy!”

Maria and Tatiana mumbled apologies. Maria even squeezed Olga’s arm and said, “I’m really proud of you,” in a very quiet voice. She steered Tatiana away from Olga, leaving her standing on the fringes of her own party with Anya. Olga looked at her youngest sister.

“You especially are not allowed to talk to me about men,” Olga said. 

“Dmitry’s been on a good path for the last two years,” Anya argued. “Ever since  _ your _ boyfriend got him back on the straight and narrow, he’s been doing good things.”

“Bumming off you is not a good thing,” Olga said quietly. “He won’t tell any of us what he does for a living and any time one of us tries to get to know him-”

“He just doesn’t like  _ you _ ,” Anya said. “And that’s only because  _ your _ team was prosecuting him and since then, you’ve never tried to get to know him.”

“Because he won’t let me,” Olga said, “Speaking of Dmitry, where did he go?”

“Something came up for work,” Anya said. “It’s important.”

“Sure, if you think petty larceny is important work.”

“This is why he doesn’t talk to you. He has a real job.”

“What is it, then?”

Anya went silent. She looked down at her fingers and twisted them together before slowly looked up at Olga. Olga smiled hopefully, but Anya shook her head.

“I promised him I wouldn’t tell,” she said. “And, anyway, we’re here to celebrate  _ your _ job! Aren’t you excited?”

“Yes.” Relief broke over Olga as the subject changed. “Of course I am. I wasn’t expecting it and I’ll have to put in my two weeks at the courthouse, but  _ of course,  _ I’m excited. This means more time with you - all of you - and…”

“It’s just that you really love your job now,” Anya said. “I will never understand how you could throw all of that away because the family asked you to.”

“Some things are more important than a career,” Olga said. “Besides, I’ll still be practicing law…”

“I guess,” Anya said. “I just… I always looked up to you, you know? You’re the only other one who has a drop of passion in this family and I don’t want you to just… waste it because you want to make Papa happy. He’ll always be proud of you.”

Olga smiled weakly at her sister. Putting an arm around Anya’s shoulders, she squeezed. She wanted to give her a real hug, but Anya sometimes balked at them - at anything she thought was patronizing. 

“And I’m proud of  _ you _ ,” Olga said. “Papa tells me you’re an absolute firebrand in the courtroom. I wouldn’t expect anything else, but I can’t wait to see you in action.”

Anya laughed softly and disentangled herself from Olga’s embrace.

“Come on,” she said. “Come dance with me before your date.”

“It’s not a-” Olga laughed as Anya tugged her hands and swayed, loosening her up before they rushed to the dance floor. 

The hours passed quickly between songs and dances and trips to the refreshment table. So many people came up to congratulate Olga that she thought if she heard the word “congratulations” one more time, she’d vomit. Under the din of the music, she listened for the lobby clock. When it struck eleven, she started to map her exit. However, one of Alexei’s friends - a junior associate with curly hair and too much confidence for someone trying to flirt with his new boss - cornered her. Hands upon her shoulders startled Olga. She turned and looked. Alexei offered her a smile and then an apologetic glance at his friend.

“Sorry, Brody,” he said. “I need to steal my sister for a dance.”

Alexei whisked Olga back onto the dance floor.

“Sorry about him. He doesn’t pick up social cues,” he said. “He doesn’t have sisters.”

Olga laughed and rested her arms over her younger brother’s shoulders. In the last few years, he’d gotten much taller than her, but he retained his sunny smile and babyface. He had tried to grow a mustache last year and only succeeded in embarrassing himself in his graduation photos. He smiled down at her, waltzing her across the floor expertly. Their steps fell easily into a rhythm. 

“Anya told me you have a date tonight,” he said. 

“It’s not-”

“So here’s the plan. I’m going to dance you across the ballroom and you're going to tuck and roll into a group formation with Tatiana and Maria. Anya will distract Brody - I guess Dmitry got work sorted because they have their own rescue plan.”

“You guys are the sweetest.”

“Just remember us fondly when you’re our boss in two weeks,” Alexei said, whirling her through the crowd. 

He passed her off to Tatiana and Maria and across the room, Brody yelped in pain and Anya stood over his bent form angrily. Before Olga could say or do anything about that, Tatiana and Maria ushered her out the door. Standing in the hall, Tatiana went back to fixing Olga’s makeup as she had been trying to do at the start of the night. 

“There we go,” she said. “Go have fun.”

Olga rushed out the door to find a taxi pulling up to the hotel. As she went to flag it down, it rolled to a stop. The door opened and Dmitry popped out. 

“Right on schedule,” he said. “Your carriage awaits, princess.”

Olga opened her mouth and Dmitry held up his hand.

“Please. No need to thank me. I’m just helping Anya help you.” He held the door for her. “Have a good date, Olga.”

Before she could protest, the cab door shut and the driver asked her, “Where to?”

“The Blue Bridge,” Olga said. “Please.”

And the taxi rolled away from the hotel towards her and Gleb’s favorite watering hole. 

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

Olga swept into The Blue Bridge, overstressed and overdressed. Scouring the bar for Gleb, her eyes passed over the piano player, her favorite bartender, and two dozen people she didn’t exactly recognize, but whose conversation made up the ambiance of The Blue Bridge. At last, she alighted upon him. Gleb sat alone in their usual booth, still in his suit, but with his tie undone and draped over his neck and shoulders. His collar had wilted and Olga didn’t have to check her phone to know she was probably late. Beside him sat three glasses - one empty, one half-drunk and the other untouched and full of half-melted ice. He’d ordered for her? Mixed irritation and fondness churned in her stomach as she approached the booth.  
  
“Sorry I’m late,” she said. “Papa’s event was... It wasn’t what I expected.”

“Don’t apologize.” Gleb rose to his feet. “Thank you for coming.”

He wrapped Olga in his arms. She blinked. Then, resting her head upon his chest, melted into the embrace. She’d been hugged all night by her family and well-wishers, but this felt different. Maybe it was because Gleb needed comfort and he wasn’t usually the type. Inhaling the scent of his cologne and pomade and the light scent of vodka on his breath, Olga relaxed. Maybe she needed this just as badly. When they broke apart, it was all too soon but not worth protesting over. Each took their seat across from each other. Gleb stretched out a hand to Olga. She tilted her head, then accepted.

“Thank you,” he said again, “for everything today. Seeing you in the middle of my eulogy was… I don’t think I would have gotten through it without you.”

“You would have,” Olga said. “Passionate speeches are how you win jurors over every day.”

“This was different.” Gleb picked up his drink. “This was  _ my father’s funeral _ . It’s- It doesn’t happen every day.”

“God I hope not,” Olga muttered. She picked up her drink and took a sip. Making a face, she looked at Gleb. “Honey-lavender?”

“You’re the one who went on the aromatherapy kick,” he said, holding his free hand up. “I just remembered you said it was good for stress.”

“Anya is right - you  _ are _ weird. But, thank you for trying.”

“Speaking of the family black sheep, how was everyone? Excited about Tatiana’s new promotion?”

“Not exactly…” 

“That is the most un-Romanov thing I’ve ever heard. All anyone in your family does is be happy for each other. You’re all surprisingly functional for a family of lawyers…” 

“I just meant Tatiana didn’t get a promotion.”

“Oh.” Gleb missed his mouth with his straw and, giving up, set his drink aside. “Is everything… okay?”

No one had asked her that all night. Not really. They’d asked if she was  _ happy _ and she was but was everything “okay”? The genuine, suddenly sobered concern in Gleb’s dark eyes forced Olga to bury her face in her hands. Her shoulders and head shook. Gleb’s warm hand wrapped around her forearm gently. Without looking, she could imagine the concern on his face deepening: his brow furrowing, his lips drawing into a thin line, his head canting to the side… Inhaling deeply, Olga looked up. Her eyes itched, but she wasn’t crying. Huffing out a slow sigh she braced herself for his reaction. 

“Papa is retiring. And he named  _ me _ successor.”

Gleb released her arm. As he searched for words, Olga would have sworn she heard him curse under his breath. Then, a smile wrenched onto his face as if it brought him pain. 

“Congratulations?” 

“Don’t sound so excited for me.” Olga reached for her drink before remembering how cloyingly sweet it was and changing her mind. 

“I  _ am  _ excited for you! It’s just…”

“You’re inheriting your dad’s law firm. I can inherit mine’s.”

“My inheriting Vaganov & Gorlinsky is completely beside the point. Your dad is still alive.”

“I’m sorry, Gleb, I didn’t mean-”

“I just. I always thought… I don’t know. I mean, didn’t we both expect him to wait ten years and shuffle it on to Alexei?”

“Primogeniture is overrated.”

“Right, yeah, no, it’s not a  _ gender _ thing. It could have just as easily been Tatiana. But, Olga… You’re the best ADA the city has seen and I guess I always thought you were  _ happy _ doing what you were.”

“I thought you were happy as a public defender. How is it  _ any _ different? Besides the obvious.”

“I mean,  _ besides the obvious _ , your dad has four other kids who went into the family business-”

“Do you really think Tatiana could run a law firm? Maria didn’t even  _ want _ to be a lawyer. We know Anya’s temper would lose clients so fast. And Alexei is just a baby-”

“- And if there is  _ anyone _ more principled and stubborn than me, it’s you. It just seems weird that you would sacrifice your career-”

“Some things are more important than a career.”

“Like what?” 

“Family.” Olga sighed. “I thought you would get it.”

Gleb looked away. Olga wished she could read his mind. His jaw sawed back and forth and he stared into space in the bar. She wanted to snap in his face -  _ Earth to Gleb! _ \- to get his attention. She didn’t have to. He looked back at her with a soft smile. Nodding, he reached for her hand.

“If you’re really happy, I’m happy for you,” he said, squeezing. “I’m sorry - you’re right, I  _ do _ get it. And you deserve good things.”

“But?”

“No ‘buts’.” A smile tugged at Gleb’s lips. “Just an ‘and’.”

“And?”

“And I guess we’ll get to see just as much of each other, now that we’re heads of rival families.”

“Oh my God, Gleb, we’re not the mafia.”

Gleb laughed. He toasted Olga before draining his entire drink. Standing, he asked for her order and promised to bring her back whatever she wanted (“Martini - three olives”). She watched him lean against the bar and smiled softly. They weren’t the mafia but he had a point - their families had been such fierce rivals with enough power and influence to matter. But they wouldn’t continue their fathers’ feud. They’d gone nose-to-nose in the courtroom plenty of times and it only strengthened their friendship. How many times had they ended a day of verbal sparring with lunch or drinks to celebrate the other’s victory? Could they still do that? As much as she hated for Anya to be right, Gleb was handsome and funny - smart and caring. There’d been a brief time Olga had had a crush on him - last December came to mind and just the thought of kissing him under the mistletoe made her whole body flush. She looked around for water. Failing that, she picked up the noxiously sweet drink Gleb had gotten her and started to chug. 

“Woah,” Gleb said, as he returned. Olga sputtered on her drink. “I… I told you I’d be right back with your drink. You might want to slow down.” 

“Oh, like that isn’t your third drink of the night,” she said, blotting her lips with a napkin. 

“I’m in mourning.”

“And I’m celebrating.”

“Right.” A pause as he set down the drinks and settled back into his seat. “I feel like we both want to just… wake up tomorrow and have everything the way it was last week.”

“Life doesn’t work that way.”

“A man can dream. I mean, I know you had other dreams besides running Romanov Law-”

Olga sipped on her martini and eyed Gleb wordlessly. Her brow arched. 

“I definitely had other dreams besides running Vaganov & Gorlinsky,” Gleb continued. “And now some of them feel… so far away.”

“Like what?”

Gleb didn’t say anything. He only looked at Olga sadly and lifted his glass. A smile tugged at his lips.

“To my best rival,” he said. “Congratulations, Olga. Don’t expect me to show you mercy in the private sector.”

“To  _ my _ best rival,” she countered. “May all your closing speeches be slightly less eloquent than your eulogy today.”

Gleb laughed and soon, Olga did, too. They drank and fell into comfortable chatter until the bar closed. As they walked onto the emptied street and Gleb helped Olga into her cab, her red-bottom heels wobbled under her. 

“Watch the hem-!” she said, batting Gleb away as he tried to walk closer to her. 

“I am, I am!” 

Someone stepped on it anyway and Olga tripped. She seized Gleb’s shirt in a blind panic and his hand slipped to the small of her back. She clung tight to him as he righted her. They both laughed breathlessly and walked another block before Gleb offered to put her in a cab.

“What about you?” she asked. “We could split cab fare, go together.”

“Tempting,” Gleb said softly. “But I need to check on my mom.”

Olga smoothed her hand against his shirt, relaxing some of the wrinkles she’d created by grabbing hold of him. Her breath caught in her throat as she looked up at him.

“If you need anything,” she said, “I’m a text away.”

Gleb smiled. Bending forward, his lips aimed for her cheek and instead touched the corner of Olga’s mouth, feather-light. Her skin tingled.

“And if you need anything,” he murmured, “ _ anything _ at all…” 

“Thanks, but, Gleb-”

“No, thank  _ you _ , Olga. Let me make it up to you. Anything you need.”

They hailed a taxi. Olga climbed inside and watched Gleb stand under the lamppost, waving. She knew they were only drunk, but she hated to think that her sisters might have been right. 

* * *

Morning came for Gleb before the sun rose. He shut his alarm off and brushed his teeth. A run and a shower were meant to clear his head. Still memories and half-memories from the previous day rattled around in his head. As he jogged through his parents’ -  _ his mother’s _ \- neighborhood. Until high school, the Vaganovs had lived in Long Island. Gleb’s sophomore year, his father presented them with a flat on 74th - a quick jaunt to Central Park or the museum or any number of Upper West Side amenities. The hypocrisy reeked so badly, Gleb only visited home on Sundays to see his mother until now. He didn’t like to think about how many of his defendants he could find housing for with what rent cost on the Upper West Side for a three-bedroom. 

But he would rather think about  _ that _ than yesterday. Between the funeral and drinks with Olga, his head swam. He wanted to text her. Had he really tried to kiss her last night? If she hadn’t turned her head - she had turned her head, hadn’t she? - this morning might have been very different. He’d dreamt about it in vivid detail: the cab ride, the kissing, the offer for him to come upstairs for a cup of coffee, more kissing, the rustle of discarded fabric, soft moans and gasps as they fumbled to bed -

Gleb shook his head. And then what? This morning, despite his glowing, alcohol-tinged dreams, he’d woken up hung-over and blurry-eyed with tears. Dreams of Olga hadn’t been the only ones he’d had. In the middle of a warm fantasy, the setting had morphed from Olga’s apartment to his father’s office -  _ his _ office - and instead of holding Olga, Gleb’s arms were weighed down by manacles that bound him to the desk. Dominika sniped at him about Romanov Law from the door, Gorlinsky stared him down from one side of the room, arms folded, and glaring over his mustache, and in the corner, Stepan Vaganov just shook his head. The red walls dripped like blood. If he’d woken up from that nightmare in Olga’s bed, he wouldn’t be able to articulate it to her. He couldn’t tell  _ anyone _ , but he didn’t think Monday would go well. What would he say to Olga if he had woken from that dream at her place? They’d been drunk. He was vulnerable. He hated everything he felt - including the need to text her. 

That didn’t stop him. 

[From: Gleb Vaganov] Seriously, anything you need - let me know. Also, let me know when you start. Maybe we can do drinks (or coffee?) again. 

He sent the text and as he made breakfast for his mother, checked his phone for a response. Irina Vaganov shuffled into the kitchen. She watched Gleb make french toast before moving his phone out of the way.

“Who are you waiting on a call from?” she asked. “Work?”

“No.” 

“Really?”

“I’m not Da- I’m not waiting on a call from work.”

Irina rubbed Gleb’s back, reaching up between his shoulder blades. He relaxed. His father’s work schedule had always been a point of contention in their family. Now, Gleb supposed, they didn’t have to worry about it. Fresh tears stung his eyes.

“How did your date go?” 

Gleb blinked. He looked over at his mother.

“I just got drinks with Olga, Mom,” he said. “We’ve both had a long week.”

“ _ Just drinks with Olga _ , like you haven’t been in love with her since law school!”

“That was a long time ago,” Gleb said. “We’re just friends.”

“One of my biggest regrets is letting your father’s rivalry with Nicholas interfere with your life. That’s why you’re  _ just friends _ with Olga, isn’t it?”

“Look, breakfast is ready!” 

Gleb shoved a plate at his mother. He didn’t know how she could be teasing him like this, the morning after his father’s funeral. He wanted to say he preferred it to any alternative, but it was moments like this his biggest regret was not begging harder for a brother or sister. It would be nice for his mother to be able to spread out her focus a little. They sat at the table and Irina sifted through sympathy cards while Gleb shoveled french toast and bacon into his mouth to soak up whatever alcohol lingered in his system. His mother’s hand rested on his wrist. 

“All these people are coming out of the woodworks  _ now _ ,” Irina said softly. “I don’t think a single one of them cares - the time to tell someone you love them is when they’re alive.”

Swallowing, Gleb nodded. 

“He was a hard man to love,” Irina continued. “You know that as well as I do, but he loved you.”

Gleb made a noise of neutral assent. He hoped it didn’t sound sarcastic. He’d worshipped his father, but Stepan was always busy with work and his volunteer work and his causes and his rivalry with Nicholas Romanov. Maybe that was why Gleb was an only child: his father was never  _ home _ . One could argue that Stepan was earning a living for his family, but (Gleb recoiled at his cynicism) clearly that wasn’t fulfilling enough or he’d still be alive. 

“He’d be proud of you.  _ I’m _ proud of you. Taking over his law practice is a lot.”

“Mom, I’ve been practicing law for years now-”

“You’re an excellent lawyer and an even better man. Glebka, can you promise me something?”

“Yes, anything.”

“Don’t let the firm get in the way of your real life,” she said. “You’re still young and if you want to be more than  _ just friends _ with a certain young lady, there’s no replacement for time spent together.”

“Duly noted.” Gleb rose, clearing his plate. As he rose, his phone buzzed. Irina lifted her teacup to her lips, trying to hide a smile.

“Text her back; I can clear the table,” she said. “I need to keep busy”

Gleb smiled at his mother and when he shuffled away, far enough that he was sure she couldn’t ask what the text said, he opened it.

[From: Olga Romanov] You too - anything you need. 

[From: Olga Romanov] Coffee would be great. My family is trying to book me solid. Wednesday morning?

[From: Gleb Vaganov] Sounds perfect. 

He’d have to check the stream of dates Dominika had sent him but Gleb would be there - one way or another. 


	3. Chapter 3

Morning came for Gleb before the sun rose. He shut his alarm off and brushed his teeth. A run and a shower were meant to clear his head, Still memories and half-memories from the previous day rattled around in his head. As he jogged through his parents’ - _ his mother’s _ \- neighborhood. Until high school, the Vaganovs had lived in Long Island. Gleb’s sophomore year, his father presented them with a flat on 74th - a quick jaunt to Central Park or the museum or any number of Upper West Side amenities. The hypocrisy reeked so badly, Gleb only visited home on Sundays to see his mother until now. He didn’t like to think about how many of his defendants he could find housing for with what rent cost on the Upper West Side for a three bedroom. 

But he would rather think about _ that _ than yesterday. Between the funeral and drinks with Olga, his head swam. He wanted to text her. Had he really tried to kiss her last night? If she hadn’t turned her head - she had turned her head hadn’t she? - this morning might have been very different. He’d dreamt about it in vivid detail: the cab ride, the kissing, the offer for him to come up stairs for a cup of coffee, more kissing, the rustle of discarded fabric, soft moans and gasps as they fumbled to bed -

Gleb shook his head. And then what? This morning, despite his glowing, alcohol-tinged dreams, he’d woken up hung-over and bleary-eyed with tears. Dreams of Olga hadn’t been the only ones he’d had. In the middle of a warm fantasy, the setting had morphed from Olga’s apartment to his father’s office - _ his _ office - and instead of holding Olga, Gleb’s arms were weighed down by manacles that bound him to the desk. Dominika sniped at him about Romanov Law from the door, Gorlinsky stared him down from one side of the room, arms folded, and glaring over his mustache, and in the corner, Stepan Vaganov just shook his head. The red walls dripped like blood. If he’d woken up from that nightmare in Olga’s bed, he wouldn’t be able to articulate it to her. He couldn’t tell _ anyone _, but he didn’t think Monday would go well. What would he say to Olga if he had woken from that dream at her place? They’d been drunk. He was vulnerable. He hated everything he felt - including the need to text her. 

That didn’t stop him. 

[To: Olga Romanov] Seriously, anything you need - let me know. Also let me know when you start. Maybe we can do drinks (or coffee?) again. 

He sent the text and as he made breakfast for his mother, checked his phone for a response. Irina Vaganov shuffled into the kitchen. She watched Gleb make french toast before moving his phone out of the way.

“Who are you waiting on a call from?” she asked. “Work?”

“No.”

“Really?”

“I’m not Da- I’m not waiting on a call from work.”

Irina rubbed Gleb’s back, reaching up between his shoulder blades. He relaxed. His father’s work schedule had always been a point of contention in their family. Now, Gleb supposed, they didn’t have to worry about it. Fresh tears stung his eyes.

“How did your date go?” 

Gleb blinked. He looked over at his mother.

“It was just drinks with Olga, Mom,” he said. “We’ve both had a long week.”

“_ Just drinks with Olga _, like you haven’t been in love with her since law school!”

“That was a long time ago,” Gleb said. “We’re just friends.”

“One of my biggest regrets is letting your father’s rivalry with Nicholas interfere with your life. That’s why you’re _ just friends _ with Olga, isn’t it?”

“Look, breakfast is ready!” 

Gleb shoved a plate at his mother. He didn’t know how she could be teasing him like this, the morning after his father’s funeral. He wanted to say he preferred it to any alternative, but it was moments like this his biggest regret was not begging harder for a brother or sister. It would be nice for his mother to be able to spread out her focus a little. They sat at the table and Irina sifted through sympathy cards while Gleb shoveled french toast and bacon into his mouth to soak up whatever alcohol lingered in his system. His mother’s hand rested on his wrist. 

“All these people are coming out of the woodworks _ now _,” Irina said softly. “I don’t think a single one of them cares - the time to tell someone you love them is when they’re alive.”

Swallowing, Gleb nodded. 

“He was a hard man to love,” Irina continued. “You know that as well as I do, but he loved you.”

Gleb made a noise of neutral assent. He hoped it didn’t sound sarcastic. He’d worshipped his father, but Stepan was always busy with work and his volunteer work and his causes and his rivalry with Nicholas Romanov. Maybe that was why Gleb was an only child: his father was never _ home _. One could argue that Stepan was earning a living for his family, but (Gleb recoiled at his cynicism) clearly that wasn’t fulfilling enough or he’d still be alive. 

“He’d be proud of you. _ I’m _ proud of you. Taking over his law practice is a lot.”

“Mom, I’ve been practicing law for years now-”

“You’re an excellent lawyer and an even better man. Glebka, can you promise me something?”

“Yes, anything.”

“Don’t let the firm get in the way of your real life,” she said. “You’re still young and if you want to be more than _ just friends _ with a certain young lady, there’s no replacement for time spent together.”

“Duly noted.” Gleb rose, clearing his plate. As he rose, his phone buzzed. Irina lifted her teacup to her lips, trying to hide a smile.

“Text her back; I can clear the table,” she said. “I need to keep busy”

Gleb smiled at his mother and when he shuffled away, far enough that he was sure she couldn’t ask what the text said, he opened it.

[From: Olga Romanov] You too - anything you need. 

[From: Olga Romanov] Coffee would be great. My family is trying to book me solid. Wednesday morning?

[From: Gleb Vaganov] Sounds perfect. 

He’d have to check the stream of dates Dominika had sent him but Gleb would be there - one way or another. 

* * *

Olga couldn’t wait until Wednesday. Her father wasted no time giving her a pop quiz on Romanov & Associates. It was over a brunch with her siblings that her father began to interrogate her and Olga began to text Gleb under the table. Perhaps noticing her sister’s anxiety or perhaps prescient in her own way, Tatiana announced a “sister’s only” shopping trip for Olga’s “new professional wardrobe” with a small squeeze to Olga’s knee. Anya tossed her napkin down onto the table.

“Let me text Dima,” she said. “He had - _ has _ \- a work thing he wanted me to see, but I guess I can do a raincheck.”

“Well, actually,” Maria said, touching Anya’s wrist, “maybe you two should go. I can go with Nastasia. You know, Big Pair, Little Pair things.”

“It’s not like I wanted to be included anyway.” Alexei folded his arms. “I have a life, too.”

“Alexei, you’d be bored to tears if you came with Tatya and me to go clothes shopping,” Olga said. “And you really don’t need to get mixed up with whatever ‘work’ Dmitry is doing.”

“He’s a cool guy,” Alexei said. “Did you know he showed me how to pick lo- _ locations _ for a photoshoot?”

Nicholas cleared his throat. He and Alexandra exchanged looks that Olga couldn’t decipher. Such were the looks her parents often exchanged. She looked down at her phone to see if Gleb had texted her again. 

“As long as you kids have a good time and don’t break any laws or bones,” Nicholas said. Alexandra smiled tightly. “And I need all of you to be in one piece for work on Monday. Especially you, Olga.”

Nodding, Olga slipped one last text -

[To: Gleb Vaganov] I can’t wait! 

After their eggs benedict and a few more mimosas, the Romanov family began to go their separate ways. Olga was thankful for the mitigation to her hangover as they stepped onto the sunny street and parted. Anya and Maria slipped off one way, their parents another. Alexei insisted he was going to wait for a Lyft and didn’t want anyone fussing over him. And so Olga and Tatiana set off for Madison Avenue. As they perused the displays in a favorite boutique, Olga knew her younger sister forgave her for her unexpected inheritance, but that something weighed on Tatiana’s mind. As they changed in the dressing rooms, able to see each other’s faces over the short partitions, Tatiana smirked.

“So, you passed Papa’s pop quiz while nursing a monster hangover and texting Gleb Vaganov under the table,” she said. “How do you do it?”

“I don’t know what you mean-”

“Olya, I know you,” Tatiana said. “Better than anyone. I’d bet anyone my favorite Prada pumps that you were texting Gleb Vaganov-”

“Oh, no, I’m not denying that. I was.” Olga reached behind herself to zip the dress she tried on. “But what do you mean '_how do I do it '_? Do what? Multitasking?”

“Fraternizing with the enemy,” Tatiana said. “So effortlessly. We all expected Anya to get mixed up with a guy who was Trouble with a capital “T”, but you...”

“Gleb isn’t trouble.” Olga admired her reflection. She could see Tatiana’s skeptical expression over her shoulder. “He’s a good man and a good friend.”

“How long are you going to keep lying to yourself that he’s just your friend?” Tatiana asked. “Come out - I want to see that on you, is it the red one?”

“It feels like too bold of a statement...:”

"To call him your boyfriend?”

“No, the red dress.” Olga stepped out of her dressing room. “And, anyway, Gleb isn’t my boyfriend.” 

She stepped out of the changing room to model for Tatiana. Tatiana pursed her lips, humming as she scrutinized Olga over the top of the door. Olga’s shoulders sagged. The look on her sister’s face spelled disapproval.

“Is it that bad?” Olga asked.

“I mean, he wouldn’t be _ my _ first choice, but he’s a step up from Anya’s crook.”

Olga sighed and turned to a mirror to check the fit of the dress. Smoothing her hands along her hips and stomach, she sighed. She wasn't going to successfully change the topic that easily, even though Tatiana usually was quick to compliment or criticize her fashion choices. It seemed Tatiana had found something else she preferred to grind Olga's gears about.

“She says we don’t give him a chance,” Olga said, giving up. “You know the only reason he never went to jail is-”

“_ \- _ because he found a loophole.”

“- because Gleb is a damn good lawyer.”

“Oh _that's why _Papa hates him,” Tatiana said. “Not the good lawyer thing, but the getting Dmitry off thing. I always thought it was a holdover from his rivalry with Vaganov Sr. or because he thought you could do better.”

“I’m not dating Gleb Vaganov.”

“Papa will be pleased to hear that,” Tatiana said. “We all kinda thought you would be by now after working so closely at the county courthouse, and the DA’s Christmas party…”

Olga’s ears turned the color of her dress. She wanted to ask Tatiana how she knew about that, but that was tantamount to admitting guilt. Besides, if there was footage of her kiss with Gleb under some mistletoe plastered onto social media, she didn’t want to know about it - or at least find out about it on her sister’s cell phone. 

“It would have disappointed Papa too much,” Olga murmured. “And then there’s, you know, Gleb’s family to consider…”

“Well, just his mom now,” Tatiana said, stepping out of her dressing room wearing a chic floral dress. Her eyes swept over Olga’s frame in the mirror. For the fleetest of moments, Olga felt mousy standing next to her model-gorgeous baby sister, but then Tatiana wrapped her arms around Olga’s shoulder. “Oh, Olya… You look beautiful. Does it come in other colors? You need at least six, cut just like that!”

Olga laughed, hugging her sister. 

“But is it appropriate for work?” she asked. “Because if I find out you’re trying to find me a dating dress…”

“Oh, god, no!” Tatiana laughed. “I thought if I talked to you about Gleb, you’d be less stressed than if I asked you about work.”

“I wish you would have asked me about work instead. Work, I can do.”

Tatiana’s eyebrows arched mischievously. If she was Anya, there would have been commentary to turn the rest of Olga’s face red. Instead, Tatiana released Olga and turned her around gently to study her face. 

“But you didn’t want to. I remember that much of our conversation from the party,” Tatiana said. “And I worry about you. You always do everything to please Papa and Mama and I don’t want you to give up things you love just to make them happy.”

“You mean like Gleb?”

“I mean like your shot at being DA, but him, too, I guess.” A pause. “So you’re really not worried about Monday?”

“Why would I be worried?”

“I mean, besides giving up your dream job and your dream man to make the family happy... Papa hasn’t left the place in the best of conditions. With the associates and staff, I mean. He doesn’t see it that way, but the parties don’t boost morale the way he thinks they do and the employees kinda hoped he’d sell so they didn’t have another Romanov in charge...”

“Papa never told me any of this.” Olga thought about the Sundays spent walking in Central Park with her father, feeding the waterfowl and watching weddings in the distance at the boathouse. They talked about everything. Or so she thought. Her stomach bottomed out as she realized she and her father weren’t going to their usual spot tomorrow but planned to sit down and finish signing paperwork for Monday morning. She wanted to be angry with her father and she almost was, when Tatiana said-

“He doesn’t _know_. He thinks he’s done a good job and before she retired, Nana _tried_ to train him to take over from her, but…”

“_ ... but Papa isn’t Nana _ .” Their grandmother was beloved by everyone and whenever she visited from Paris, she and Papa took walks of their own to counsel, that always left them both in strained moods. Olga didn’t have to wonder what was said during those walks as she compared their management styles. Her papa was a damn good lawyer, but he could be… difficult. Olga gripped Tatiana’s forearms. “And I’m not Papa, right?”

“Of course you aren’t.” Tatiana stroked Olga’s hair. “Do you think Papa could really look half as good as you in that dress?”

Olga laughed, but even after making their purchases and leaving the store, her stomach knotted. What was she walking into on Monday? As she flopped onto her bed, she saw that she had five missed calls and three unread messages. Three of the calls were from Anya and she didn’t leave a voicemail or send any texts. She’d return those calls later. Opening the texts, she saw they were all from Gleb.

[From: Gleb Vaganov] Just realized we didn’t pick a place for coffee. How about the Daily Brew?

[From: Gleb Vaganov] Please answer your phone. Anya and I have been trying to get ahold of you.

[From: Gleb Vaganov] Come to the precinct. Dmitry’s been arrested. 

Sitting upright, Olga dialed Gleb’s number. One ring and she slid on her shoes again. Two rings and she got her keys. Three rings and she was out the door. Four rings and-

“Gleb Vaganov speaking.”

“Gleb, what _ happened _?” 

“Olga, Dmitry won’t see me,” Gleb said. “He called me and told me he was innocent, but to call you. Popov - do you remember Vlad Popov? - is working to post Dmitry’s bail while I keep an eye on your sister.”

“_Sisters,_” Olga corrected.

“No, just Anya. She’s more than enough.”

“Where’s Maria?”

“What?”

“Didn’t Anya take her with her?”

“I don’t think so.” Gleb paused. “When I got to the precinct, it was just Anya and Popov. And, well, Dmitry but… He won’t see me. He said he will only see me if he can see you, too.”

“Is he… firing you?”

“I don’t know. He never hired me. The state of New York did last time and I don’t know if he’s going to hire me now that I’m in the private sector. I’m really only staying here so-” Gleb lowered his voice “- _ so Anya doesn’t punch a cop._ Hurry. Please.” 

Hanging up, Olga hailed a cab and sped downtown. As the buildings whirred past, she realized she never thought to ask what Dmitry had been arrested for. For a moment, she thought about texting Tatya or her father. Instead, she texted Maria -

[To: Maria Romanov] Wish you could have come with me and Tatya today! Hope you had fun with Anya and Dmitry!

\- and waited for a reply.


End file.
